The authors of this blog are now inside Northern Syria writing about their feelings and experiences there. They can't disclose their identities, hence they'll be blogging live anonymously.

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The neighborhood witnessed heavy shelling that day as the sounds of strong clashes went deeper and further into regime-controlled areas. It is the collective punishment whenever the regime is hit by the FSA, shelling the liberated areas.

We were sitting at an FSA checkpoint when a woman was standing at her door, looking after her young children playing outside ignoring the close heavy shelling and sounds of clashes.

Despite all attempts by our FSA guys trying to get her to go inside, she kept smiling at them and playing with her children.

I went to speak to her to try to convince her to go inside with her children, as shelling can hit our street any minute.

“Marhaba, don’t you think it is better if you and your children went inside until shelling goes down a bit?”

“Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?” she replied

Inside her very small house, which smelled of burned wood, she made coffee from the small bag she keeps next to the stove, as there was no electricity, water or gas for months now, she made the coffee on a stove made of a tin container filled with little sticks of wood, she prepared it all gracefully and naturally within a minute.

She sat next to me with Sa’ed, one of her children on her lap. She picked up a plastic bag next to where we were sitting and got some fabric and dresses out. She showed me the red summer dress she’ve sewed for Qamar, her 3 years old daughter last month. She was so proud of it, and the dress was so beautiful!

“It is a bit bigger in size, cause by summer she will grow bigger. Children grow really fast”

We sat there for 30 minutes, speaking about everything, except for the war, we spoke about her divorce, sewing and drying the wood. We spoke about men and her children bed time, we spoke about the environment and trees, we spoke about how gorgeous Qamar will look in her red dress next summer.

The shelling and shooting was just the background, and the coffee was the main event, the main event of that hour.

Death is a possibility that passes by; it could be a car accident, a heart attack, cancer or well… a shell. In wars, death is overrated…

We Syrians will never get used to death, we are gripping into life, strongly, so Qamar can wear her red summer dress and so our FSA guys few meters away can go back to their wives, lovers, universities and jobs.

“before the revolution, I had a spiky hair” an FSA fighter

You can “worry” as much as you want over the future of Syria, you can put it all in one cooking pot and tell all the world how scared you are… you can hide in your little corner at your warm house in the exile where you are safe so you can better worry about the future of Syria. But you have no right what so ever to steal the grip that Um Sa’ed has on life, don’t you dare tell her she needs to be scared over the future, don’t preach her on “secular” or “Islamic” state, don’t you cry in her name.

Um Sa’ed is there to live, keep your dirty hands off her beautiful dresses that she will make to Qamar for yet many summers to come.

Revolutionaries in Kafranbel used to ride this beauty while advocating for protests, also while escaping regime’s army and thugs. It’s reserved in Kafranbel to remind its residents of the history it carries.

That’s how refugee kids warm themselves in the dark due to power cut and lack of fuel.

Leaving Syria tomorrow morning, spent four days in Saraqeb but due to power cut I could not charge my laptop and phone or connect to a descent internet connection. This is sad, that I have so much to tell you but can’t because of electricity. No power in Saraqeb in more than 2 weeks. I am now on the borders, power will cut in few minutes, I guess this blog is a good idea but isn’t realistic really. How is possible to blog with no electricity? how is it possible to blog if there is no internet in the first place? People here use satellite internet and it needs power to be used, also you need gas if you want to use a generator, and money here is becoming a big issue. So really, at the end of this journey I discovered that I really cannot even blog from liberated Northern Syria.

Fuck you, Assad, big time.

First Saraqeb Graffiti in 2013, the design is my idea based on a photo taken in Aleppo of FSA fighter carrying guitar. Drawn by Saraqeb graffiti artists. 😉

Thank you all for the support, I’ll be back in the North in a month from now, see you all very soon!

Yesterday after having lunch with Kafranbel media activists; with Raed Fares, Hammoud Jneid and Khaled Issa, me and my friend suggested that we screen cartoons to refugee children hosted by Kafranbel village (read about this amazing village here and here).

The activists felt discouraged: “children are not children here, they’re now accustomed on the language and the circumstances of war that made childhood a distant idea than a human phase.”

I insisted on trying: “I still watch cartoon until now, in fact, especially now that we’re living war conditions, I am sure kids or at least some, will be pleased.”

Despite Kafranbel activists’ discouragement, we agreed on preparing and screening silent cartoons on January 3rd (today), so we downloaded from the net Pink Panther, Pat and Mat (known as Zingo & Ringo in the Arab speaking countries) among other silent cartoons.

Today at 5 PM we went to a school filled with many refugee children and moved school chairs to the yard with the help of refugee young men. Kafranbel activists hanged with clothes pins a big white fabric to screen on the videos. Luckily for the refugee children, we’ve found a projector and speakers, borrowed a generator from Kafranbel media center and here we are, Pink Panther’s silly smile is in front of us in this dark, children’s clapping broke the shelling’s noise behind us (the shelling targetted Maarra located 10 Kilo from Kafranbel).

Pink Panther under shelling.

We screened a video after another but some of the children, especially those who fled Al-Maaraa asked us to screen videos on the Free Syrian Army and started clapping and chanting: “God save the Free Syrian Army!”

Preparing the screening.

I was confused, I thought to myself: is it really true? Childhood no longer exists in Syria? That innocent childhood phase that I miss and long for when I am down?

We screened a short report on FSA that Kafranbel media activists filmed during battles, but we cut it and continued with the cartoons.

The screening lasted for almost an hour, we ended the screening due to the cold weather. We were approached by the children later on and us to screen “mouse and cat” next time. “You got it!” I said, “but no videos on revolution next time, OK?” I asked the children. “OK, and no Pink Panther next time please!”

We laughed, as long as the kids are demanding to watch cartoons, then I guess we still have hope, we still have hope that our humanity and our children’s childhood won’t be distorted for good.

This is the first time that such screening takes place in Kafranbel, and it won’t be the last for sure.

I am home and these are my people, my beautiful and amazing people. And I cannot express how I feel, I don’t understand how do western journalists write what they write about Northern Syria, I have been to Latakia mountains and now I am in Idleb, Kafranbel, will be staying here for few days then heading to Aleppo.

Every single person I meet, and I have met a lot, and I have met many Free Syrian Army battalions, and oh my God, they’re heroes, some of them are fucked in the head – well some want to act like macho men in front of me coz I am a woman- but they’re good people. They, the armed revolutionaries, want to go back to their lands, cows and olives farms, they’re good people.

I am overwhelmed. I am home and among amazing people who share with you inspiring stories with a big smile on their face. All I can do is look deep in their eyes and wish that someday I have the strength to become as firm as they are.

So my question to the western media who’re depicting this area as bunch of Salafists, Islamists and Qaeda: where the fuck are you getting your shit from? Why are you deliberately missing out on the people of Syria who have since day one lead this revolution and been through the shelling, besiege, detention..you know what, you don’t even know what each of these words mean, do you know what detention means? what shelling means? what the sound of airplane means as it’s flying over your village? Over your children’s heads? No electricity here at all in some areas, I am lucky to go around some activists’ places to check my mail and write this blog post, but families spend the hours on candles and warm their bodies with wood instead of gas – it’s very expensive to buy gas here.

Latakia mountains, December.

There isn’t anyone here who hasn’t had at least one near-death experience. That in itself is just unbelievable.

As I said, I am overwhelmed by the people here and their stories. But I cannot forgive the journalists who’re coming here and missing out on life, love, hope and inspiration, and they go on reporting on hate, on black flags just so they can get ahead on their careers. Your career is ruining our revolution, our homes and our very future. Fuck you big time, dear journalist.

This blog will try as much as possible to report on how we, Syrians, see our own revolution.